


Therapy

by Clistav



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Ahsoka tries to be understanding, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anakin is very mentally ill, Hurt/Comfort, IDK if this will end up smutty?, M/M, Past Abuse, Pre Vizsla is a dick, Slow burn?????, Therapist Obi-Wan, no beta we die like men, other characters might show up at some point?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:08:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27957389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clistav/pseuds/Clistav
Summary: Anakin needs therapy. Obi-Wan is a therapist. Though there paths cross outside the office, will their hearts cross inside it?
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 7
Kudos: 44





	1. Help Me Now

**Author's Note:**

> Hey people of the ObiKin fandom! This is my first EVER fanfic and I do not claim to be a good writer at all, so please don't expect the War and Peace of fics here, I'm just trying my best. Constructive criticism is appreciated, and apart from that, I hope you enjoy this dumpster fire of a first chapter! More will come (maybe? If there is a demand for it?) soon. Also the chapters will be named after songs I like. That's all!

“Hello? Skyguy? Where’d you go?”

Anakin shook his head and looked at his friend apologetically.

“Sorry, Snips, I’m not really all there today.” He sighed, and gestured vaguely to his head.

“When ARE you all there!?” Ahsoka snickered, prompting a playful scowl from Anakin. He knew it was a little annoying for Ahsoka when he dissociated like that, especially when she came to visit him on his break, but recently he had been called out on his ‘thousand-yard stare’ more times than he cared to admit.

“So, anyone cute come in today?” Ahsoka asked, taking a comically large bite out of her croissant.

Anakin chuckled, and briefly scanned the café, though he already knew no one of interest had entered since he went on his break. As he expected, he saw mostly students, a couple of professors, nearly all regulars, although there were many empty seats as it was post-rush hour.

“I think you already know the answer to that, Snips. Unless I count you, that is.” Anakin said with a sly wink.

“Can it, Skyguy. You’re so full of it!” Ahsoka retorted, amused. “I guess I just keep asking because how CUTE would it be if you served coffee to some hottie and then fell in love and got married and had kids and stayed together forever and ever and…”

“Ok, I get it, Snips! I just don’t know why you care so much. I’m perfectly happy being single. And even if I wasn’t, I’m way too busy to date right now!”

Ahsoka huffed. “Yeah, but you’ve been single since… forever, actually. And don’t try and fool me with the ‘I’m perfectly happy’ spiel either; I’ve seen who you follow on Instagram!”

Anakin blushed. In his defence, he’d been meaning to unfollow those ‘relationship goals’ accounts for a while, because he was so happy being single, and not at all because they were damaging his self-esteem.

“I followed them by mistake, Snips,” he lied. “And, as I said, however I feel about being single, I’m too busy right now. School is kicking my ass and I’m working two jobs just to make ends meet! I’m falling apart at the seams, Ahsoka!” Anakin said dramatically, with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He liked to make a joke out of how difficult things were for him at the moment, but there was a lot of truth behind his statement. He was spread too thin.

“So you keep reminding me!” Ahsoka replied sarcastically. “But maybe you wouldn’t have to work two jobs on top of studying if you found a nice, smart, OLDER gentleman with a lot of spare money to help you out!” she said, wriggling her eyebrows and grinning.

Anakin choked on his water.

“Ahsoka!” He spluttered, coughing aggressively. “I do NOT need a sugar daddy! I do not WANT a sugar daddy! I don’t even want a boyfriend! Why is that so hard for you to understand!?”

“Calm down, Shangela,” Ahsoka joked, handing Anakin a napkin, which he accepted with a scowl. “I never said you should get a sugar daddy. I just think you should explore dating a bit! It would be so cute, it would probably make you less prone to following couple goals accounts, and it wouldn’t hurt if he HAPPENED to have a rather full bank account,” she said, shrugging, before attacking her croissant again. 

“Well, I don’t want a boyfriend, so it doesn’t even matter,” huffed Anakin. He opened his mouth to start lecturing Ahsoka about how she wasn’t seeing anybody either, when his phone alarm went off. He sighed, turning it off, and got up from his table. “This is where I bid you adieu, milady,” he said in a terrible attempt at a British accent, before bowing and turning on his heel. 

“See you tonight, milord!” Ahsoka said, laughing. “And don’t think I forgot about your promise!”

Anakin grimaced. For a second, he really thought she had.

* * *

Anakin sighed as he looked in the mirror. The blue button-up Ahsoka picked out for him looked great, but he couldn’t think about anything other than how petrified he was for this evening.

He couldn’t blame Ahsoka; she’d been wanting to go clubbing with him for months, and he hadn’t been able to give a solid explanation as to why that was literally the worst thing he could think of doing. But he hadn’t really told her about any of his trauma, so he couldn’t hold her constant nagging against her.

“Skyguy, you ready? The line is gonna be SO long if we don’t leave soon, and you haven’t even started pre-drinking yet!” Ahsoka called from the kitchen. He sighed again, gave himself one last once-over, and left the safety of his bedroom. As he rounded the corner of the small hallway into the kitchen, Ahsoka looked up and smiled brightly. 

“I told you that colour looks good on you! Your eyes are popping!” she took a long swig of whatever alcoholic beverage she was currently holding. “You are gonna pull so many guys, and who knows? You might even find a boyf…”  


“Ahsoka! For the last time, I’m only doing this for you. I don’t want to ‘pull’ anybody! I don’t even want to go in the first place,” he added under his breath. 

“What was that?” Ahsoka asked flippantly, handing him a vodka Red Bull and taking another sip of hers.

“Nothing. Jesus, Snips, is this Red Bull? Do you want me to die?” Anakin asked, anxious. Caffeine didn’t really interact well with his anxiety to begin with. Mixing it with alcohol seemed even more dangerous.

“Oh relax, drama queen! Every time we drink here you fall asleep after two sips! They just cancel each other out. You won’t even notice! Besides, clubs are no fun if you’re not drunk. Otherwise, it’s just noise and lights,” said Ahsoka matter-of-factly.

Anakin shuddered as he took a sip, as much from the thought of the noise and lights as the way-too-strong drink. “Fuck me, this is strong! How much did you put in this?”

“That’s for me to know and you to never find out! Just make sure that whole thing is finished soon, the Uber will be here in 6 minutes!”

Anakin bristled and downed the rest of his drink with disgust all over his face. This was not going to be a fun night.

* * *

A brief Uber ride later, Anakin and Ahsoka were standing in front of a building labelled ‘Dexter’s Diner’. According to Ahsoka, this was the place to be for gay guys on a Saturday night, which meant it was the exact place Anakin didn’t want to be anywhere near.

“Ahsoka, I can feel the ground shaking and we aren’t even in the line yet. Are you sure we can’t just go get pizza or something?” Anakin pled, desperate to get away from the noise and the lights.

“Come on, Skyguy! I’ve been wanting to do this with you for MONTHS! And we are already here anyway! Just give it an hour, if you really hate it, we can leave, ok?”

Anakin sighed, and nodded somewhat dejectedly, before following Ahsoka into the line. Ahsoka nudged his side as they waited, and gave him a look that was an unspoken ‘check out the merchandise!’ to which Anakin just scoffed. He looked up and down the line, fidgeting with his hands, but no one caught his eye.

“So? Anyone at all?” Ahsoka asked, slightly desperately.

“No, Snips. Squawking twinks aren’t really my type, and it doesn’t seem like there is much variety,” he replied, now playing with his shirt buttons.

Ahsoka slapped his hand away and laughed. “You’ll fit right in then!” she said, sticking out her tongue at him.

He shook his head, barely smiling, and continued fiddling anxiously. He appreciated her trying to make him comfortable, but he was really on edge. He hoped he could make it through the hour Ahsoka had made him promise, and then make a break for it back to the safety of his bedroom.

A half hour later, they had reached the front of the line, paid the ‘ridiculous’, in Ahsoka’s opinion, $10 dollar entry fee, and stepped into the club. Anakin was disappointed to find out that it was exactly as he had expected; it was swelteringly hot, crowded, and so loud he couldn’t hear himself think.

Ahsoka yelled something he didn’t catch, and then grabbed his hand and dragged him over to the bar. “I need the bathroom so badly. Get two double vodka Red Bull’s and wait for me here!” Ahsoka said, already running off.

“I don’t know if I should have another!” Anakin shouted after her, but she was gone before he’d finished the sentence. He sighed, rubbing his eyes, and turned toward the bar. He stood there in silence for a few minutes as the line got closer to the bar, completely unaware of just how many eyes were on him. 

“What can I get for ya?” shouted the bartender. Anakin swallowed, and placed the order Ahsoka asked for. He finally looked around as the bartender made his drinks, and accidently made eye contact with a scary looking bald man who had been starring at him for some time. Anakin politely, albeit somewhat awkwardly, smiled before turning away. Big mistake.

The bartender placed the drinks in front of him and held out the EFTPOS machine, but as Anakin reached into his pocket to grab his card, a leather-gloved hand held a Black Amex to the machine. Anakin turned to the stranger to find the bald man smirking at him.

“Don’t worry darling, I’ve got you covered,” he said lasciviously, grabbing the drinks and handing one to Anakin, before raising the second one to his lips.

“Actually, that was for my…” Anakin winced slightly as the bald man drained the glass in one go. “Never mind. Thank you… for the uh… the drink,” Anakin said, noticeably anxious as the man stepped right into his space.

“No need to thank me, beautiful. I always like to buy a drink for the handsomest man in the room. My name is Pre. Pre Vizsla. A pleasure to meet you…” he prompted, holding out his hand.

“Anakin. My name is Anakin,” he replied, nervously taking the man’s hand to shake it, but instead he was pulled even closer as Vizsla kissed his hand for way too long. Anakin pulled away, with a smile that even he was sure looked more like a grimace, possibly the most uncomfortable he had ever been.

“Anakin… what a nice name for such a sexy boy,” Vizsla growled. “Why haven’t I seen you here before? I certainly would have noticed you if I had, and judging by how many people have been starring at your ass all night, they’ve never seen you here either.”

Anakin felt a bead of sweat roll down his temple as he took a step back in an attempt to reclaim his space, only to back into a wall, unable to escape the man, who simply stepped into his space again, with a predatory grin stretching across his lips. The last thing Anakin wanted was someone coming on to him this strongly, not to mention that he was now aware of the fact that almost everyone who’d seen him was staring at him. 

“Well, um… I’m really just here for my friend,” Anakin managed to get out, praying Ahsoka would show up and save him. “I don’t really like clubs… too loud.” 

“I don’t really like clubs either, funnily enough,” Vizsla replied, stepping in again so there was less than an inch between their chests. “I’m just here to find someone sexy to leave with. And since I’ve found him, and neither of us want to be here, why don’t we head back to mine,” he said, grabbing Anakin by the shoulders and leaning in to kiss him.

Anakin shoved him away, panting. His heart was beating out of his chest. “I… I’m sorry. I have to go find my friend” he stammered, turning frantically and walking away before Vizsla could say anything else. He rounded a corner and found the girls bathroom.

As he waited outside, he screwed his eyes shut and tried to focus on breathing. His anxiety was building rapidly, and he could feel the alcohol hitting his system. He wanted to leave, badly.

“Skyguy, you didn’t have to come find me you know. The line for the stalls was longer than the line to get in here! Hey, where are the drinks?” Ahsoka said, coming out of the bathroom.

“There was this guy, and he… he bought the drinks, and then drank yours, and he asked me to go home with him and tried to kiss me and I pushed him away and then I came to find you and I really, REALLY don’t want to be here!” Anakin said at rapid speed. 

“Oh relax, Skyguy! Someone tried to kiss you, so what? It’s a club! That’s what people do!” Ahsoka said, chuckling.

“Yes, but he was really creepy and it made me so uncomfortable, Snips!” Anakin said. “I just really don’t think clubs are my thing.”

“Creepy guys are everywhere! It’s not like he came chasing after you, either. He’s probably trying it on with someone else as we speak. And you got a free drink out of it! Shame he drank mine, but the pre-drinks just hit me so it may not be the worst thing ever,” Ahsoka pondered. “It’s only been 20 minutes and you promised me an hour! Let’s just go dance, I swear we’ll leave soon if you don’t have a good time.”

Anakin didn’t know what to do. Every fibre of his being was screaming at him to get out of the building, but he didn’t want to go back on his promise to Ahsoka either. He figured the best course of action was to stick to her like glue, wait until the hour was up and leave.

He nodded, and she grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the crowded dancefloor. Ahsoka’s lithe frame could slide through the crowd with extreme ease, but Anakin’s height and broad shoulders were making it very hard for him to keep up with her. He bumped into yet another person, apologising meekly as he continued his way through the maze of bodies, getting mostly smiles, and a few frowns, from the people he was pushing.

Something pinched his butt, and he turned around furiously, but everyone behind him was just dancing as they had been moments before. He went to tell Ahsoka that he couldn’t stay here anymore, when he realised he had lost her hand, and couldn’t see her anywhere. He was completely alone, in the middle of a crowd of drunk strangers, with music that had somehow become even louder since he had arrived. 

Anakin started to hyperventilate again, and began pushing his way out of the crowd. He didn’t know which way the exit was, but he was blind with panic and just needed to get somewhere quiet. He could feel the bile rising in his throat when suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder, forcibly turning him around.

“Hello again, handsome,” snarled Pre Vizsla, fingers digging into Anakin’s shoulder. “You think I’m just gonna buy you a drink and then let you run off on me!? That’s not how it works, sweetheart. You’re mine tonight,” he said, wrapping his arms around Anakin’s hips and squeezing his butt, before aggressively kissing Anakin.

Anakin lost it.

He pushed Vizsla away once again, and punched him, hard, in the nose. Then he just ran.

* * *

He had no idea where he was, or how he got there, but he had found his way to an empty alleyway. He vomited into a trash can, and then collapsed against the alley wall, sobbing uncontrollably. If he had heard the footsteps, he didn’t react, too deep into his panic attack to pay attention to them.

“Excuse me, are you ok? I saw you leave that awful place earlier, and wanted to check up on you,” said a voice that Anakin didn’t recognise. He looked up, his vision blurred by tears and the sheer anxiety he was experiencing, but all he could make out was white and auburn in a wash of blurred colours squatting in front of him.

“I…” Anakin slurred, the edges of his vision dimming. His head dipped. Whatever the strange voice in front of him was saying, he couldn’t make it out as he fell unconscious.


	2. Venus as a Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey people! This chapter isn't amazingly written and I know the plot is a bit shaky, but I promise it will get better, I just didn't know how to push the narrative at this stage (read: Obi-Wan isn't a creep, I'm just a bad writer). Anyway, enjoy some Obi-Wan perspective! i think I'll be flipping the POV each chapter to keep it fresh. Hope you enjoy!

If anyone asked Obi-Wan Kenobi what sort of life he led, he would struggle to come up with an answer. The nuance that comes with the things he dealt with, both in his professional and personal life, required much more context than is generally appropriate for a small-talk response. But he would probably settle on answering with “a simple one,” and leave it at that.

Except Obi-Wan Kenobi never had to think about what he’d say if he were asked what sort of life he led.

Because Obi-Wan Kenobi had no-one to ask him in the first place.

And that was why Obi-Wan Kenobi found himself in a dingy little hole-in-the-wall bar, much later than he had intended on his Saturday night, drunk and unhappy.

He didn’t usually feel the urge to wash away with sorrows with whiskey, as his work week kept him busy. If he could work 7 days a week he absolutely would, but apparently having no weekend would be breaking some kind of labour laws, and so he has weekends off to be bored, and with far too much time to dwell on his problems.

It just so happened that this weekend was proving to be particularly challenging on his psyche, so he made his way to the quietest, emptiest bar he could find. He liked it here. No one asked questions, and the drinks weren’t terribly expensive. Not that money was the issue, but it certainly didn’t hurt.

He stared into his 7th glass of whiskey on the rocks, looking at his distorted reflection in the liquid, when a small cough pulled him out of his trance. He looked up to find the bartender standing in front of him.

“That’s your last one, I’m afraid. We’re closing up in a few minutes,” said the bartender, with a tired smile.

Obi-wan nodded, and the bartender went back to cleaning the benches around her. He took another sip as he looked around. There were only a few people here and there when he had walked in, but as he glanced over the small space, he realised he was the last person in the room, aside from the bartender.

He checked his phone. 11:30. He sighed, downed the rest of his drink, and placed the glass on the bar, along with a $50 tip. “Thanks for the whiskey,” he said politely, and walked out of the bar. 

It was the pleasant kind of cool that didn’t feel oppressive, and that was just the way Obi-Wan liked it. Weather that reminded him of England was rare, and so he relished it when he found it. 

He found himself observing the street as he walked down the main road on his way home. He wasn’t the kind of person who enjoyed going out clubbing or partying, and as a result, he was often very interested to get into the minds of people who did.

The cacophony of sound was almost overwhelming; the Ubers and taxis patrolling the road, the pumping bass-lines that overlapped each other, the general shouting and laughing from drunk passers-by. Obi-Wan shuddered a bit. He couldn’t imagine how loud it would be inside one of the clubs if it was this loud outside.

As he continued his journey home, he found himself outside the famed Dexter’s Diner. Just about every clubbing horror story he’d heard had taken place here, and yet it had the biggest line of any club he’d wandered past. He stopped for a moment, looking at the massive neon sign and trying to imagine how a night in that place could possibly bring anyone joy, when there was a shout from in front of him.

A group of scantily-clad twinks leapt to the side, screeching, as a man ran out of the club. He passed by Obi-Wan in a blur of blond curls and red eyes, and continued down the long street, eventually getting lost in the crowd. Obi-Wan was briefly shocked, before shrugging lightly and continuing on his way home.

* * *

Obi-Wan had been walking for about 20 minutes when he heard sobbing from an alleyway next to his street. He glanced in the direction of the sound, and saw the man who had run out of Dexter’s Diner. He was curled up against the wall, hyper-ventilating and rocking back and forth. 

Obi-Wan was torn; he liked to mind his own business, and knew that approaching strangers in alleyways was not a safe practice, but he felt compelled to help. He figured nothing harmful could come from at least checking if the man was ok. So, he walked toward him slowly.

His approach still hadn’t been noticed by the time he was standing in front of the stranger, so he squatted down in front of him and said “Excuse me, are you ok? I saw you leave that awful place and wanted to check up on you,” as gently as he could.

The man slowly lifted his head from where it had been buried in his knees, and Obi-Wan silently gasped. From beneath a curtain of blond curls, was the most beautiful man Obi-Wan had ever seen. Behind a veil of tears sat glistening blue eyes, that were so intense and full of emotion, Obi-Wan almost felt as though he should look away. Tears streaked down over high cheekbones, training down to a sharp and defined jawline. Sharp, uneven breaths came and went from between pink lips, opening and closing with the air.

Obi-Wan was so stunned by the beauty of the man, that he realised the stranger had said something he hadn’t heard. “I’m sorry I didn’t quite catch-,” Obi-Wan started to say, when the man’s eyes rolled back and he began to fall towards the ground. Obi-Wan dove forward, his arms shooting out to stop the stranger’s head from hitting the pavement. He caught the man’s limp body, and just held him for a moment, staring at the stunning, and very unconscious, complete stranger he was now cradling.  


As he stared, he realised he was now faced with a dilemma; what the hell was he going to do with this unconscious man he didn’t know. It didn’t sit right with him to leave the stranger in the alley, especially at this time of night, but he didn’t know who the man was. He could call the police, but that would likely result in the man getting fined for being unconscious in public. 

Slowly but surely, Obi-Wan managed to convince himself that taking the stranger to his apartment was the best course of action. Though his intentions were entirely pure, part of the reason he wanted to help was because of the man’s exceptional beauty, though he would never admit it to himself. Besides, it was definitely the better choice if the other option was leaving him passed out in an alley in the dead of night.

And so, Obi-Wan hoisted the man over his shoulder, and walked the remainder of the journey home, carrying a complete stranger.

He let himself into his house, and headed straight for the bedroom. He placed the stranger in his reading chair in the corner of the room, and quickly changed the sheets on the bed before placing the man on the edge of the bed. 

He removed the stranger’s shoes, and was about to lift him into the bed when he noticed that the man’s shirt and pants were both absolutely filthy, presumably from the alleyway. Once again, Obi-Wan didn’t know what to do. It didn’t feel right to remove a stranger’s clothing, but he also didn’t want to stain his rather expensive sheets. 

But Obi-Wan considered himself a principled man, and decided to compromise. He removed the stranger’s shirt and trousers, looking away the entire time as to not invade his privacy while he was unable to consent, and laid him down, pulling the sheets over his body before looking down at him.

The man looked peaceful, his plump lips slightly open against the white pillow case, the slow rise and fall of his chest moving the sheets slowly up and down. Obi-Wan smiled, then immediately frowned, shaking his head and marching out of the room, grabbing the stranger’s clothes on the way.

He walked into the laundry, throwing the clothes aggressively into the washing machine, before leaning back against the wall and sighing, pinching the bridge of his nose. He hadn’t found anyone attractive in this way for a very long time, and it was extremely disconcerting that it happened to be a complete stranger who was passed out, and also now sleeping in his bed.

“Idiot,” Obi-Wan muttered. “I should have just called the police! How on Earth am I going to explain this to him when he wakes up without it seeming like I’m some sort of kidnapper! Stupid!” he said, slapping his palm into his forehead. 

As he leant down to turn the machine on, he noticed the bulge in the trouser pocket, and immediately felt like the stupidest person alive. He reached into the machine and pulled out the man’s wallet and phone from the trousers, and located the stranger’s I.D, then closed the door and turned the machine on. 

“Anakin Skywalker,” Obi-Wan said, turning over the card in his hand. The phone was dead, so he took it back into the room, along with the wallet, and placed them on the bedside table, putting the phone on charge in the process.

Though he knew the stranger’s name, he still didn’t know anything about him, and he thought calling the police at this stage wouldn’t be a good idea, as it would seem weird that he had an unconscious person, who he didn’t know, in his house. If only he'd thought of looking for an I.D before deciding bringing an unconscious stranger into his home was a bright idea.

Obi-Wan sighed as he collapsed onto the living room couch. He just hoped this Anakin Skywalker would be understanding when he awoke.


	3. Daylight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back at it again with another chapter! Hopefully this one is a bit more coherent than the mess that was chapter two. And I know I'm still sort of setting up the plot, but it's gonna start moving soon, I promise! Thanks to everyone who has been reading and leaving comments, it is much appreciated! Anyway, enjoy Anakin's Panickin! (TM).

Gentle sunlight fell onto Anakin’s face from gaps in the curtains, coming to rest across his tanned skin, and stirring him from his slumber beneath his heavy eyelids. He rolled over slowly, not wishing to open his eyes to the light, fearing that his rapidly mounting headache would worsen if he were to.

Then Anakin noticed that something was off. This bed did not feel like his bed. The sheet covering his torso was much thicker, and much softer, than he was used to, and the pillow his head was resting on felt much fluffier than the single, flat pillow he had owned for years. And whatever laundry detergent was used on these sheets, it certainly didn’t smell anything like the store-brand powder he used.

Anakin’s eyes snapped open, and he sat up faster than he’d intended to, causing an instant head-spin and a blinding flash of pain from behind his eyes.

As his eyes slowly adjusted, he squinted at the room around him, and confirmed his fears, anxiety rushing into his system.

The room itself was not the issue, and clearly whoever owned it had good taste, and the money to facilitate it. The bedhead sat against a wall, with a mahogany nightstand either side of it, with simple but beautiful lamps on each of them. Large windows, covered by ecru curtains adorned the wall to his left, and in the corner, he saw a simple armchair, which had his clothes neatly folded on it, next to a bookstand. On his right was an open door which led into an en suite, and another closed door which he could only assume was a walk-in wardrobe, since there wasn’t one in the room. The wall facing the bed was decorated by a few sketches in frames, and another door, which presumably led to the rest of the home. 

Anakin was extremely confused. He had no memory of how he had come to be wherever he was. He didn’t even remember leaving the club. 

A buzz from his left snatched him out of his stupor, and he looked to the nightstand to see his phone and his wallet. He reached out to his phone, and saw about a thousand messages and calls from Ahsoka.

As he moved his fingers to call her, a memory from last night flashed in his mind. Strong hands on his shoulders, an unwanted kiss, and a black Amex card. Anakin began to hyperventilate.

He was in Pre Vizsla’s house.

He leapt out of bed, ignoring the various pains springing to life throughout his body, and pulled his clothes on haphazardly, barely noting that they seemed to have been cleaned. He shoved his wallet and phone into his pockets and hurried out of the strange bedroom he found himself in.

When he burst out onto the other side of the door, he saw a sophisticated and refined living area, connected to a very expensive and modern looking kitchen. But more importantly, he found a man in the kitchen, staring at him, clearly shocked by his chaotic entrance.

Anakin was even more confused than before. On one hand, this wasn’t Pre Vizsla, which could only be a good thing, but on the other, Anakin had no idea who the man was. 

The man composed himself, putting down the pan he was holding and smiling softly. “I’m glad you’re awake. I know you’re probably really confused right now, but if you would like to sit down, I can explain what happened last night,” said the man in an accented voice, gesturing to the marble breakfast bar lined with chairs on the opposite side of the kitchen.

Anakin stayed rooted to the spot. “Who are you?” he said, panic evident in his voice.

The man sighed, and moved to lean against the opposite side of the benchtop. “My name is Obi-Wan, and I found you in an alley not too far from here last night. You seemed very distressed, so I asked you if were ok, but you passed out. I didn’t want to leave you alone, and I knew you’d probably get arrested for public intoxication if I called the police, so I brought you back here,” the man explained calmly.

Anakin swallowed heavily. “Did you… did we…?”

“Oh God, no. Absolutely not. I would never take advantage of someone like that. I slept on the sofa,” Obi-Wan assured him, pointing to a few blankets and a pillow resting haphazardly on the couch in the sitting room. “I did wash your clothes, but only because they were filthy. You seemed to have found the dirtiest alley in the area to collapse in,” he chuckled. “I promise I didn’t look or anything like that. I just didn’t want my sheets to suffer.”

Anakin breathed out slowly, looking for any sign that this stranger, Obi-Wan, was lying, and finding none. He felt his anxiety start to ease, albeit slightly, as he studied the man in front of him. If Anakin has to guess, he would say the man was in his early-to-mid thirties, as he had a few grey hairs in amongst his well-groomed auburn hair and beard, and small crow’s feet crinkled around his eyes when he smiled at Anakin. His pale skin seemed to almost glow in the soft morning light, a few freckled poking out from beneath the thing glasses he wore.

As Anakin relaxed slightly, he realised that, whoever this Obi-Wan was, he was extremely attractive. He swallowed again, not knowing what to say, still trying to process what he’d been told.

“I’m making eggs benedict, if you’d like breakfast. I’m happy to answer any questions you have. I know it’s probably extremely disconcerting waking up in a stranger’s home,” said Obi-Wan, almost hopefully.

Anakin’s phone buzzed again. Ahsoka was probably freaking out. “I can’t. I have to get home,” Anakin said tightly.

Obi-Wan’s smile faltered for a millisecond, before he continued. “That’s totally fine. I could drive you home, if you’d like. I would like to make sure you get home safe, and it wouldn’t be right for you to have to pay for an Uber when I was the one who brought you here.”

Anakin shook his head sharply, clearly distressed. “No, I just have to get home. I’m sorry,” he muttered, walking towards what looked to be a front door.

Obi-Wan sighed, looking slightly disappointed. “Wait, please,” he said, beginning to walk towards Anakin, and reaching into his pocket.

Anakin stiffened immediately, and relaxed again when Obi-Wan pulled out a small white card. “I don’t know what happened to you last night, but it seemed serious. If you ever need to talk… give me a call?” Obi-Wan said, handing the card to Anakin.

Anakin replied with a breathy “Ok,” pocketing the card without looking at it, and opened the door, walking halfway out before stopping and turning his head. “And thanks… for making sure I was safe.”

Obi-Wan smiled again, the subtle disappointment leaving his features. “You’re welcome. Please call me if you ever need it, I do free first sessions.”

Anakin nodded, not entirely sure what Obi-Wan was referring to, and closed the door.

When he turned around, he found himself on the top floor of an apartment complex. He made his way down a few flights of stairs, and left the lobby, ignoring the amused look from the person at the desk. When he found himself outside of the building, he turned around to survey the building, and saw ‘Coruscant Plaza’ plastered upon the building in large Italics.

Anakin was taken aback, double checking his location on Google Maps. Coruscant was the richest suburb in the state, and about a half hour drive from his University apartment. He sighed, ordering a very expensive Uber, and texted Ahsoka, telling her he’d be home soon. About 50 texts came in immediately, ranging from thanking various deities that he was safe, to cussing him out for his radio silence, and he replied that he’d explain when he got home, and put his phone back in his pocket.

* * *

Half an hour later, and the Uber finally pulled up outside of the Student Accommodations complex. Anakin thanked the driver, and marched straight towards his apartment, passing other hung-over students who were too tired to offer a greeting, which he was very thankful for. 

He grabbed his key-card from his wallet, holding it against the scanner, and letting himself into the apartment. He was immediately greeted by a bone-crushing hug from Ahsoka, before she pulled away and began the tirade.

“Where the HELL were you!? I lose your hand for one second and then suddenly you’re no-where to be found? And you don’t answer a single message or call? I thought you had died! I was about to call the police when you finally texted me! I swear to GOD Anakin, what the hell were you thinking!? I have never been so scared in my…”

Anakin crossed to the kitchenette while Ahsoka continued screaming at him, pouring himself a glass of water, which he skulled immediately, pouring himself another and walking towards his bedroom.

“…and then some fucking twink is telling me you PUNCHED a guy, and I have absolutely NO clue what they’re talking about, and I don’t hear from you for 12 hours!? No way Skyguy, you’re not walking away from this conversation!”

“Snips, please, I just need to sleep. I promise I’ll explain everything later, but I am exhausted and…” Anakin sighed as Ahsoka walked over and stopped in between him and his bedroom door. 

“Absolutely not. I need to know what happened.”

Anakin scowled, irritated, and collapsed onto the couch in the small living area. “Fine.”

Anakin told Ahsoka what happened with Pre Vizsla, and about how he couldn’t remember what happened after that, and so was relying on what Obi-Wan had told him when he woke up in his apartment.

Ahsoka sat through the story, her scowl getting heavier by the second, waiting until Anakin had finished. “So you just woke up in a complete strangers apartment in CORUSCANT? That’s miles away, Anakin! Anything could have happened to you! How could you have let that happen?”

“How could I have let that happen!?” Anakin snapped back. “Can I remind you just how many times I told you last night that I didn’t want to be there? And how many times I have told you I hate clubbing whenever you suggested it? Maybe there was a reason for all of that, Ahsoka!”

“But it doesn’t make sense!” Ahsoka shot back. “I get that clubbing might not be your thing, and you were well within your right to be angry at the guy who kissed you without your consent, but how does that result in such an intense blackout that you wake up in a strangers’ apartment half an hour away, without even sending me a text!?”

Anakin sighed, letting the anger leave his body. He reminded himself that Ahsoka still didn’t know about his past, beyond that he came up in foster care, and that she’d been nice enough not to pry when he’d said he didn’t want to talk about it. He decided he was going to tell her, as she was his best, and only, friend, but not now. Now, he just needed to sleep.

“Snips… there is a lot about me you don’t know, and it’s the reason why last night happened the way it did. I want to tell you, but right now I just need to go to bed. I promise we can talk about it later. And I’m sorry I had you so worried,” he said, standing up and pulling her into a hug.

“It’s ok, Skyguy. And I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you last night. I was just so excited to finally see you out, I guess. I love you loads. Go get some rest, we can talk about it later,” she said, pulling out of the hug and smiling. 

Anakin smiled back, tousling her dreadlocks, and went into the cool dark of his bedroom.

He flung himself onto the bed, ready to sleep for the next few decades, when he remembered to empty his pockets. As he removed his phone and wallet, the business card Obi-Wan had handed him fell onto his sheets.

He picked it up, examining it. The card read ‘Stewjon Psychology’ in clean black letters, with a phone number and opening hours.

Anakin placed the card, along with his phone and wallet, onto his bedside table, kicking off his shoes, and fell onto his pillow. Surely he should call, even just to say thank you to the man who had been kind enough to take him into his home without knowing him at all.

Anakin sighed, leaving his pondering for later, and slipped off into the dark embrace of slumber.


End file.
